


just you wait

by Khintress



Series: history (has its eyes on you) [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: pre-me1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 11:02:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khintress/pseuds/Khintress
Summary: "There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait."She knows what she’s made for, and it isn’t colony life. She belongs in space, with moonlight in her eyes and stardust in her hair.





	just you wait

**Author's Note:**

> It's Mass Effect! And Hamilton! Because "I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory" is a thousand percent Shepard and no one can convince me otherwise. Here's a quick look into Shepard's life before the Normandy - focusing mainly on the Skyllian Blitz.

                She’s eighteen when she enlists. She’s never known anything but the military, growing up on starships with active officers for parents. It’s in her blood, they tell her – it’s only a matter of time. She doesn’t waste any. She’s got history to uphold, a legacy to sustain, a name to make. She knows what she’s made for, and it isn’t colony life. She belongs in space, with moonlight in her eyes and stardust in her hair.

                Guns sit in her hands like they’re molded for her fingers. She wields them as extensions of her arms; bone to metal and blood to lead. The biotics are harder. They’re new for her, tugging at the seams of her control as they threaten to crush her carefully crafted composure. It’s not so simple as ‘aim and shoot’. It’s not something she can unload and put away at the end of the day. It’s a power beyond her experience, and with limited instruction, she’s forced to learn as she goes. Failure is a lesson, her mother says, and she grows very wise, very fast.  

* * *

                She’s twenty-two when she begins the final stages of her Interplanetary Combatives Training. It’s painful, grueling work – almost unbearably so – but she’s always been stubborn. Tensions in the Terminus Systems have been growing for years; if she can prove herself here, she may just earn herself that coveted N7 patch. Her parents worry, but they know their daughter. Being good was never enough, it will never _be_ enough. She has to be stronger, faster, and smarter than anything she may come up against. ‘Shepard’ was given to her, N7 is something she earns. Graduation day is the proudest day of her life.

                Her father isn’t there to celebrate it with her.

                The funeral is quick, the way he wanted, but it doesn’t feel _finished_. Everything moves too fast. From the bullet that started the end, to the procession that carries him away. She can still feel the weight of him on her shoulder, heavy and incomplete. She wonders if it will ever lift – she knows it won’t. She’s granted two weeks shore leave, but she has nowhere else to go. She was born in space, she’ll die in space. She doesn’t know what to do with the ‘shore’ or the ‘leave’ part.

                In the end, she stays put. One of their oldest colonies in the Verge, a coveted retirement destination and tourist attraction. Elysium is nice enough, she thinks. Until it isn’t.

* * *

                 There’s a handful of them planetside when the attacks begin. A dozen or so marines to fend off a presumed invasion. She’s the only one in the sector when the gunfire starts. Civilians run and scream, trying to flee a yet unknown threat. The noise is familiar to her, but the scale – she’s never heard so many voices cry out in unison. She’s never felt so much fear, all at once, as people evacuate the streets. She doesn’t know what defenses Elysium has in place, but she hopes they’re enough.

                It doesn’t take her long to find out that they’re not.

                She manages to rally some colonists; men and women who know how to hold a gun. The defense effort is scattered, disorganized, but she gets them to a supply depot with enough ammunition to arm a decent ground team. These people aren’t soldiers, she knows, but they’re willing to protect their home. If she can make contact with the other marines, they may just stand a chance. She won’t let Elysium burn without a fight.

                When she realizes the overwhelming force they’re facing, she resigns herself to burn along with it.

                It’s an organized terrorist attack on humanity’s oldest colony in the Verge. They’re not taking slaves or armaments or resources. Slavers, pirates and warlords raze the planet with every intention of destroying it. They’re here for blood, she realizes, and they’ll get it. She can see their vessels overhead as she leads her team to a barricade, relieved to find a makeshift platoon of soldiers already holed up. They haven’t been able to make contact with the Fleet, but she doesn’t have time for last hopes. There’s an opposing force on the other side of that wall, and she doesn’t need her armor to prove she’s worthy of the N7 designation.

                The sniper rifle is heavy. Heavier than she’s used to. It’s not as fluid as a pistol or an SMG, but she can’t afford to get close. She can’t let the enemy close enough to engage the barricade; she can’t risk these people’s lives over a piece of metal. It doesn’t take her long to get a handle on it, but her enemies greatly outnumber her rounds. It’s as she realizes that she’s out of ammo that she’s knocked from her perch above the wall. She doesn’t know what caused the explosion, only that the resulting damage isn’t in their favour.

                It doesn’t matter what gun she uses now. Pirates filter through the barricade in plumes of smoke and fire, unloading on anything that moves. She hasn’t lost anyone, not yet, but she doesn’t know the extent of the attack. She doesn’t know where their ships are landing – she doesn’t know if there are other barricades. They could be slaughtering people in their homes right now, but she’s here – pinned against a slab of the fallen wall. They’ll hold this point, she decides. It’s all they can do.

                She can barely make her team out through the debris. They’ve all found cover, from what she can see. It’s a small relief. The marines hold the front line, shooting over broken walls and generator shields as the pirates advance. They’re keeping them at bay, if barely. If they can hold out until the Alliance arrives – if she can _hold this point –_ she realizes too late that she’s relying on a last hope. They’ll lose Elysium without the Fleet, she knows. She needs more time. Everything happens so quickly, she doesn’t have time to hesitate when her pistol runs empty as well.

                Her biotics aren’t new to her anymore. They’re no longer unpredictable, or unmanageable. Failure is a lesson, her mother once said, and she’s grown very wise since then. The feeling is astounding, beyond her imagination, as she charges into the line of fire. Bullets ricochet off of her barrier, flying into the dust as she meets the enemy force head on. Her limbs shake, her implant deafening her with the exertion of it, but she advances nonetheless. She’s never used her biotics to crush bones; she didn’t know she was capable of it.

                But she is, and she doesn’t dwell on the thought.

                The sheer force of the power leaves her drained, exhausted beyond measure, but she doesn’t stop. Her body tingles with energy, blue sparks arching from her skin like solar flares. Her knuckles are bloodied and bruised, but a man’s esophagus collapses under the force of them, so she ignores the pain. She doesn’t know how many men she’s killed with her bare hands by the time they start retreating. She doesn’t even _realize_ they’re retreating until an Alliance shuttle flies over her.

                Time doesn’t stop, however much she’d like it to. The dust doesn’t settle, the smoke doesn’t clear. Fires still burn and gunshots still ring in her ears, but her knees hit the ground and she has absolutely nothing left. Her guns are empty, her biotics are drained – everything in her has seeped from the tears in her skin as surely as her blood. She’s finished, wholly and completely, but she’s alive. She doesn’t know if she can say the same for the others.

                She barely registers their voices as they pull her from the dirt; men in Alliance issue armor who lead her away from the barricade and into an emergency medical station. She can see her team, her makeshift army all huddled in the station. She doesn’t see any bodies – they’re alive, and she feels like she can breathe again.

                The doctors tell her she’s been here for hours, but the words sound like thunder in her ears. They tell her she held back an enemy force nearly single-handedly, but she can’t think beyond the ache that rumbles in her bones.

                They tell her she’s a hero, but all she wants to do is close her eyes.  

                She hopes, wherever he is, that her father is proud of her.

* * *

                 She’s twenty-nine when she first steps foot on the SSV Normandy, newly promoted and a Star of Terra pinned to her dress blues. The one-of-a-kind frigate is a collaborative effort between turians and humans that more than lives up to its name. She remembers reading stories as a child, growing up among stars. Stories of genocide and war, and a beach called Normandy that made its mark on history.

                It’s a nice namesake, and she wonders if this Normandy will be remembered in the same way. If the name will conjure thoughts of turning tides and the beginnings of victory. She hopes it has no cause to, but she’s not naïve. She knows better than to expect sustainable peace. She’s heard the stories, read the reports – tensions in the Terminus Systems are still growing, faster than ever. After Elysium – and the Alliance’s subsequent retaliation on Torfan – war is inevitable. It’s coming, whether they’re prepared for it or not. The only question is when.

                 And then they arrive on Eden Prime – a paradise turned to ash – and the answer is _now_.

**Author's Note:**

> the world will never be the same


End file.
